Underestimation
by Ichthyophobia
Summary: <html><head></head>Nakamori Ginzo is underestimated, and KID steals a ruby. Sort of a character study. No pairings.</html>


Nakamori Ginzo is underestimated.

He has spent twenty years trying to do one thing, and has never succeeded. That much is true. It's only through the much more spectacular failures of other officers who've tried and failed and done _so much worse_in the process that he still holds his position. And when not dealing with KID-dealing with the mundane fraud cases that he's regularly assigned to-he is more than competent. He is efficient and professional and one of the best officers the force has. But _any _officer, when dealing with KID, will look the fool more often than not. His superiors understand that. And for that, Nakamori is grateful.

But just because he's gone 20 years without succeeding does not mean he hasn't learned. He's learned quite a lot, in fact.

The flow of the heist is never quite the same from one time to the next. The officers joke about the KID's "routine", but it isn't a routine. Not if you're really watching. There are always little differences, and noticing them is the difference between Nakamori-keiji and the other officers that thought they could do better. The difference between a "routine" heist and an utter disaster.

Tonight, Nakamori notices, there are doves. He's spotted them scattered all across the outside of the building-roosting on ledges and preening themselves in the branches of the perfectly-trimmed trees that grow in rows around the museum. A tiny blinking light on the leg of one-probably a listening device. KID knows the security plan, then; probably most of the code words too. But more importantly, that means there will be no gas. Smoke, yes. But knockout gas would kill the birds. Canary in a coal mine, he'd thought when he'd first realized. KID can predict his birds to a degree, but not perfectly. He won't risk killing them for an easier getaway.

Nakamori clamps down on his cigarette, thinking hard as he stares at one of the birds. The bird stares back politely, watching the man smoke in the soft fall breeze. No knockout gas, good. The museum is an old building in the western style, and the ventilation inside is poor at best. Kid's gas is harmless in the short-term, but marinating in it for what could be hours would do none of his officers good. He glances over to the four officers guarding the main entrance. They're nervous, hyped up by the same cocktail of nerves and far too much coffee that he is, and sweating it out in thick riot-police uniforms that are less to protect them from KID and more to save them from each others enthusiasm. The "Dog-pile the thief" strategy was not always harmless to those on the bottom.

KID isn't the only one with a "nobody gets hurt" policy.

He glances at his watch. Still more than half an hour until the thief "arrives", though he's probably already here and wearing someone else's face. Nakamori wonders, not for the first time, how the thief will manage to get past his checks this time. Tugging on faces hasn't yielded results for years. But it's still the best strategy he has.

_(But there was that one time, thirteen years ago-he pulled on an officer's face and it tore off underneath his hand, and they _almost_had him, and the look of surprise-genuine, human surprise-on the thief's face had made the strategy worth it. Just once. But once was enough.)_

But that was the past, back with the _old _KID, who Nakamori had _almost _figured out, and if the thief had stuck around for two, three, four more heists, he would have _had _him.

Hakuba-that stuck up British teen detective-thought he was a fool for not noticing it. But Nakamori was underestimated. He'd noticed. He'd noticed before anyone else, when for those first two heists of the new spree the thief _didn't talk_. If there was anything Kaitou Kid _wasn't_, it was quiet. The second KID-that odd, quiet, transitory one-wasn't KID any more than Nakamori was. He had the flash, he had the magic, he had the suit. But the mask wasn't a mask like KID wore, and the silence was…

Nakamori pulls himself back to the present and takes a long, last drag on his cigarette before he drops it. He grinds the filter beneath his heel and turns to head back inside. He nods to the door guards, submits to the obligatory face-tug, and walks inside without a last glance at the dove.

The dove flies away.

It lands, minutes later, on the finger of a young magician on a rooftop two blocks over, who removes the listening device with a grin and tucks the dove safely away. He checks his watch. Almost time to begin.

Nakamori trudges up the stairs, taking the time to think. No gas means _distraction_, and lots of it. Flashbombs, confetti, smoke, dummies, _doves_-though maybe not doves. He's never seen _this _KID use huge numbers of doves like the old one had, blinding the officers in a flurry of wings and feathers. Maybe this one is afraid they'll be hurt. Maybe this one can't afford to keep as many. Regardless. There still might be doves.

Flashbombs he's prepared for. Everyone has polarized sunglasses this time around, so they shouldn't be completely blind. Smoke-well, he can't do much about smoke. He had a brilliant idea, to use the sprinkler systems to suppress it-but too many of the museum's pieces have to be kept dry. The idea was nixed. So there might be smoke.

He's still musing on it when he reaches the main showroom. It's here where Kid's target lies-an enormous ruby, oval-cut, more orange than the blood-red the stones were famous for. It's hardly a great stone. The orange color does it no favors, and it even has several dark inclusions like spots of dirt that couldn't be cleaned off. KID is interested in it for its bloody history alone, it seems. Or at least, the bloody history of the massive Scottish broadsword it attaches to. _Firmly _attaches, in fact. The jewel can't be removed without special tools. If nothing else, Nakamori wants to see how KID plans to make off with a sharp steel blade as long as the man is tall.

Akiyama, his second in command, stands waiting for him by the display case. Nakamori meets his eye for a brief moment before looking down to the sword.

"Anything?"

"Not yet." Akiyama shakes his head. "Nobody's moved from their stations. Not even for the bathroom. If KID is one of us this time, he's holding still at least."

"Hnn," Nakamori replies, not really listening. He kneels, looking underneath the display. All the museums pieces are displayed on flat, antique-styled tables without tablecloths or siding, so nothing can be hidden beneath one. A double-edged sword-while KID can't use them, Nakamori can't either. The security relies mostly on the thick plexiglass display case bolted to the table, and the table being bolted to the floor. The smattering of security cameras around the room and constant presence of security guards is all the museum normally needs. It doesn't matter, Nakamori thinks. The best security systems in the world haven't done a thing against KID. It's just one less thing that his men have to watch out for.

There's something unusual on the base of the table, and he motions Akiyama to look. The other man kneels, peering quizzically at the old wood.

"There," Nakamori says. A thin strip of wood doesn't match the rest of the grain. Akiyama peels it off with the blade of his pocketknife, and hands it over. Nakamori turns it over in his hands.

"Remote sensor," he says softly, reciting the pieces as he identifies them. "Looks like we've got two thin capsules of-some kind of liquid, not sure what. Looks like they'll combine when it's triggered."

"Knockout gas?"

"No." Nakamori shakes his head. "Probably just smoke. Have the others check the other tables." He checks his watch. "We've still got ten minutes. Find as many as you can."

Akiyama nods, and trots away to comply. Nakamori grits his teeth as he examines the thing in his hand. It _wasn't_obvious, but still too obvious for KID. This is either a backup plan or a distraction. Either way, he'll need to be careful of how he disposes of these. If KID sets them off, they could still play a role in his escape.

He looks up to the ceiling, then down the wall of windows, thinking. No skylight, no balcony, and the small, close-set windows don't open more than a few inches. The vents in the walls are too small for even a child to get through-too small for _air _to get through in the summer, but Nakamori isn't complaining tonight.

Overall, he should be happy. Save the lack of modern security and ventilation, this place is near perfect. The only hole big enough for the Kaitou to come through is the door, there are very few hiding places for the thief to disappear into, and no crowd whatsoever. And KID won't be able to create a crowd, not without help. Their system this time is clever-only three men will come if Nakamori calls them. And even then, he needs a code word, different for each of them. Each of those three men will call three men, on separate radio channels, and again with different code words. And each of those three will call three more. It was a nightmare to set up, and who knows if it's going to work. But KID won't be able to reach them all with one call this time.

It might just slow him down. But Nakamori is hopeful.

Or rather, he should be. But something is off.

He can't connect the feeling to evidence, which he hates. The only thing he can think of-the only thing that could be _wrong_-is it's just too perfect. No crowd, no skylight, no grandstanding old men or cocky teenage detectives. It doesn't work with KID's favorite tricks, the ones Nakamori knows how to respond to.

And if Nakamori doesn't know how to respond, the night could be an utter disaster.

Akiyama returns with a handful of thin wooden strips. "These are all we could find," he says quietly, glancing at his watch. "What do we do with them?"

Nakamori thinks for a second. "Get them outside. Put them in a squad car." He pauses. "We'll have Himura disarm them later." Himura had used to be on the bomb squad.

_(And he'd started laughing uncontrollably at his first heist, called upon to disarm one of the thief's little traps. He'd never expected, he said later, to be disarming _confetti_.)_

Akiyama nodded and trotted off again. Nakamori glanced at his watch. Akiyama probably wouldn't be back before the heist started. One less person that could be KID, Nakamori supposed.

He glanced around. One officer in each corner, three more along each wall, four at the door. Forty policemen total in the building-less than usual. But less was good, sometimes. Less people to get hurt.

He's twitchy-jumpy, almost-with no real reason why. He grinds his teeth and glances at his watch again.

One minute.

"Be ready!" he shouts. It's unnecessary. They've all been on edge the entire evening. But his subordinates nod sharply, and their stances become looser, wider, ready to fight or ready to run.

Akiyama walks back in. Nakamori stares. It's not Akiyama. No red mark from the face tug, back too soon, walking too casually. This is too easy, it _can't be,_the Kaitou Kid is _never that easy_…

He grabs Akiyama's face as soon as the man gets into range, and tugs stiffly.

The mask pulls loose underneath his fingers.

"_KID_!" Nakamori growls. Akiyama-not-Akiyama smiles, and it's KID through and through, arrogant and poker-faced showmanship.

"Good evening, inspector!" KID says brightly. The lights go out.

And the entire room explodes into bright-colored smoke.

Nakamori lunges forwards, half out of rage and half out of desperation (and not at all believing that he'll make contact) and meets only the expected empty air. The thief is moving, fast, silent as ever. Nakamori whirls, searching through the smoke.

If he can't get rid of the smoke, he might as well use it.

"Nobody move!" he bellows, and he hears his men clatter to a stop around the edges of the room. But the smoke is still moving, forming wake behind the one person still moving-the one person who has to _keep_moving, because the minute this smoke clears the police will be all over him. "Keep the doors shut! Barricade, lock arms!"

"Ne, that's hardly fair, inspector!" KID's voice comes from behind him, opposite where the moving smoke seems to be. "This smoke will stain my suit if you don't let it out. The ventilation in here is useless."

Nakamori doesn't dignify that with a response.

He _knows _KID isn't where he sounds like he is. He's somewhere around the display case, and he has to be, because that's where he needs to be to get the sword. So he's doing everything he can to make the officers look anywhere else. That's magic, that's how it _works_.

"Akiyama-keiji isn't going to appreciate the stains."

Akiyama certainly won't, but they do come out-they've all come out of heists looking like clowns before, and it's nothing that doesn't wash out. Nakamori grabs at the empty air next to the case and feels a rush of air as the thief glides away from his fingertips.

"Ah, close, Nakamori-keibu!" The voice is coming from the _ceiling_, and there have to be speakers because it just isn't _possible_to throw a voice that well. Nakamori swipes at the air above the case just to be sure. His hand actually makes contact with something-something stiff, but fabric-and whatever it was lands on the floor with a soft _shfff_. KID's hat, he thinks belatedly. But that means that at least part of the thief is or was above the case. He smacks the air again, with no results this time. All he manages to do is to stir up the smoke so much that he can't catch Kid's trail.

A clink sounds to his right, and he whirls. It's a small, metal noise, and he immediately realizes that it's attached to a large, metal object. He resists the urge to lunge towards it. In this smoke, he's not about to lunge straight at a broadsword. But he does step slowly and calmly towards it, sweeping the ground with his feet before he takes a step.

His foot finds the broadsword, and he drops to his knees to examine it. The ruby is gone, pried loose with jewelers pliers and a deft hand. Of _course_ KID knew how to get it off. Nakamori curses softly.

But Kid is still here, somewhere, and until the door opens he's going to _stay_here.

"Open the door!" shouts his voice from somewhere else. "I can't see anything!"

"Don't!" Nakamori shouts back. "He's got the jewel!"

"_KID_!" growls KID with Nakamori's voice. "Quit imitating me! Don't listen to him!"

"Don't listen to _him_!" Nakamori says. "Leave the doors shut! The smoke will settle eventually."

"...Nakamori-keibu?" The soft voice of one of the officers near the window cuts through the smoke. "The windows don't open far enough for him to get out-we could…"

"Do it!" Both Nakamori and not-Nakamori bellow at once. Nakamori whips around towards the other voice, then amends, "but block whichever ones you open!"

"Don't! That's just what he wants you to do!" KID-as-Nakamori shouts. "Get him, the minute you can see him!"

Nakamori is not famous for his patience, and what little he has has worn beyond thin. He snaps. "Will you ****ing stop _imitating me_, you…" He starts cursing. Nakamori is very good at cursing. Very creative too. The entire room falls silent, out of a kind of awed respect. Even the thief is silent for once. The smoke slowly begins to drain out the window.

Nakamori finally runs out of breath. The room stays silent for a heartbeat, then the thief chuckles, in his own voice this time. "Ah, Nakamori-keibu. You are truly inimitable in some respects." The air is just clear enough for him to see the basic outline of a man-no hat, no cape-standing across from him. Nakamori braces himself to leap as soon as he can see.

KID doesn't wait that long. The officers around the room can see their outlines too, but no detail. The thief stands up straight, and puffs his chest out.

"There he is!" he snarls in Nakamori's voice. "Get him!"

Nakamori has never faulted his men for a _lack _of enthusiasm. They've been waiting for this all night, and they rush him headlong like stampeding cattle. Nakamori tries to protest, but he can't find his voice before the first makes contact. He goes down fast, and the men pile on top. He can still hear the thief's chuckle from the bottom of the pile of bodies. KID's scooped up his hat and is already at the door.

"If that's all, inspector, I think I will take my leave…" he tries the door.

Nakamori, despite his situation, grins.

The doors to this room open outwards.

And the barricade-ten men-are all leaning on the other side.

"...Hm." Kid's face hasn't changed when Nakamori hauls himself out of the pile. He gives Nakamori a glance-not startled, _never _startled. For once Nakamori would like to see him just a _little _surprised.

"He's gone!" Kid shouts in Nakamori's voice. "Get moving! Find him!"

They don't budge. Nakamori grins again.

"You're not getting away that easily, KID." His men are circling around the thief, forming a half-circle so he'll have nowhere to run. "Give it up. We've really got you, this time."

"Ah, is that so?" His voice is lighthearted, almost cheerful. "Shame. It'll take all the fun out of chasing me, you know."

One of the others sees a chance, and lunges. The thief dodges neatly, and vaults over the man's back, escaping the circle of officers. He runs for the windows-they're too small for him to fit through, what can he be thinking? But one of the corner officers actually held his position, actually stood his ground like he was supposed to-and he lunges out at KID like a monster in a haunted house. The KID jolts away from the windows, momentarily (almost) surprised. The other officers round and close in fast. But Kid's moving, fast. Between the smoke and his speed they keep tackling each other.

But something's odd-a thin, red flash shines through the dissipating smoke, tracing a bright line along the windows. Nakamori's eyes widen.

"Get down!" he shouts. His officers stumble at the command.

One of the tiny windowpanes shatters inwards, spraying glass shards across the floor. Kid's top hat flies off his head, newly decorated with twin bullet-sized holes, to rest on the floor. The bullet hits the wall with a _crack_.

"Get _down!_" Nakamori repeats. "Now! Everyone!" He whirls. The thief can wait; he's responsible for the lives of forty men tonight and _the doors aren't bulletproof_. "Barricade, down! Get down!" He pauses for half a heartbeat. "Kuro Otoko Beika! Get _down!_"

Kid sees his chance, and begins sprinting-damn he's fast!-for the door. Another flash of red shines through the smoke, and Nakamori's moving before he can think, before he can breathe-the little red dot dances across the wall and centers in on the back of the white coat and Nakamori _leaps_…

And for the first time in his life, Nakamori makes contact.

KID falls, with far less weight than Nakamori had expected. But there's no time to think about that now. Another window shatters and the bullet sends splinters flying out from the door. Silence, for a heartbeat, then the entire wall of glass shatters at once-thirty, forty bullets, fired from what has to be a machine gun because not even an automatic is _that_fast, and metal and stone and glass rain down from every direction. Nakamori is less pinning the thief down than he is protecting him; these shots weren't meant for the officers, and he knows it.

The hail of bullets stops after what feels like an eternity. The gallery is a _mess_, and he's going to have some hard questions to answer about this. But that's not what matters now.

He sits up, not releasing his grip on the thief. "Is everyone alright?" he shouts. "Report!"

"Hamato's got a pretty bad cut on his arm," one man shouts.

"Ricochet grazed Kimura," another echos. "Not deep. Lotta blood."

"Right." Nakamori looks to the door. "Barricade! Report!"

The door opens, just a crack, and the thief is _moving_, out from under Nakamori before he can realize it and out the door before he can blink. He gapes.

"_Report_!" he repeats, louder.

"...No injuries sir!"

"Then _catch the damn KID!_" he shouts, stumbling to his feet. The barricade trips over themselves to obey, and they're gone in ten seconds. He turns back to his men. "Someone call an ambulance."

KID is chased, but not caught. The ambulance arrives. None of the injuries are major. The thief gets away.

So do the shooters.


End file.
